Behind The Glass
by That's Classified
Summary: "She simply smiles back sadly from behind the glass..." Romantic triangle tragedy flick. New: prologue. Please R&R! Thx.
1. Prologue

**Hey everyone!**

**I've decided to extend this story for at least another chapter, this being it. (Everyone thank** **Cut3Ch1ck8 - she has been my main motivator :)**

**Note: this may be a little confusing, as it's in the second point of view. When it says "you," it refers to Macey, or an equivalent. When it says "he," it refers to Zach, or an equivalent. And when it says "she," it refers to Cammie, or an equivalent.  
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**So: as per this chapter's title, this is the prologue. Hope you like it.**

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><p>For as long as you can remember, they were friends. <span>Best<span> friends.

You and her, on the other hand, were never really close – she was just a way of getting what you wanted: _him._

Of course, first you had to have the obligatory six months of token friendship with her: you needed to appear likeable; **genuine**. After all, many before you had tried – and failed – to win his heart, and to be frank, you needed the edge, naturally frightfully lacking in the personality department.

Through this one-sided attachment, you came to admire her at least, for her kosher consideration and kindness towards others. Even so, you had no qualms about doing what you had set out to do.

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><p>She leaves for camp that summer, while he remains behind. [<span>Perfect<span>.]

His mother's condition declines. Her lung cancer is now at an advanced stage. [Even better, _you_ think.]

Over the weeks, you grow closer. His mother is now terminally ill, and he's **broken up**.

And then, she dies. But, lucky for him: you're right there, by his side. Comforting him at the funeral; coaxing food into him - all the while _cultivating_ his reliance on you; nourishing it with bouts of kindness that surprise yourself.

He soon can't **imagine** life without you. Strangely, you find that you like being needed.

The time comes - you decide - to take it further. One night, you bestow him with a kiss.

Bless him, he doesn't resist.

Instead, he kisses you right back.

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><p>She returns, and when she sees the two of you together, her eyes widen slightly in pain. In a second, though, it's replaced with a wide, fake smile, and he buys it. [You don't.]<p>

You almost feel sorry for her. [Almost.]

But then, that's before you realise that you enjoy watching her squirm.

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><p><strong>Epilogue?<strong>


	2. You've Won

**Hey guys!**

**Here's the next chapter.**

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><p>2nd POV:<p>

You see their hands brush each other's gently as they wait together in the departure lounge, but for once, it doesn't bother you that much. Because you know that you have what you've always wanted. You have _him_. You've **won**.

Shaking off any doubts that you may've harboured, you skip briskly in on their silent exchange. Arms around his neck, you both kiss - for a little longer than usual, as she's watching, and you can't help showing off a little.

Over the intercom, you hear your flight being announced, and lean to gather your carry-on luggage. You then look indulgently on as he reaches to take both his and yours, ever the gentleman.

You see her standing back a little from you both, not wanting to intrude. And quite rightly so, you think. Upon seeing you look her way, she grins briefly but unbelievably, trying to show that she's alright - as if you care.

He turns to her and their eyes meet, shining with a passion that you've never known. Never will.

She allows him to crush her thin frame to his muscular body in an tight hug. This you watch, brows raised, unimpressed. But they both don't notice, being too caught up in their little 'bubble'.

They gaze at each other with a surprising intensity, and you see her eyes well with tears. For a second, you truly hate her, knowing that he somehow prefers her, clad in skinny jeans and a baggy tee to you in all your manicured perfection.

Concerned by her emotion, he touches her shoulder, asking if she's okay. Jiggling a trainered foot, and biting her lip, she nods - a little unconvincingly, you can't help but note with satisfaction.

Smirking slightly, you watch her giving him a whispered goodbye, squeezing his hand once in her own. This he returns, voice equally as hoarse.

As you drag him towards Gate 2, the plane, and a new life together, you spare not a thought for the girl you leave behind. After checking in, you clutch his arm in your vice-like grip, and exit through the sliding doors.

A sudden wind gusts across the runway, tugging your blowdried locks out of their sleek bun. This distracts you considerably, but yet not enough so as you miss him looking back to her and mouthing something **fervently**, eyes intense.

She simply smiles sadly back from _behind the glass_, her hair now loose from its former ponytail and hiding her face as she quietly cries.

You know that it was no final adieu, instead a thing a lot more heartfelt, yet shrug it off, following him up the steep steps, and giving the matter no further thought.

**Sequel?**


	3. One Last Look

**Hey.**

**I know you're all probably kinda pissed at me for not finishing yet, but here I am - updating, so caaalllllm down.**

**Oh, and thank you all for responding. :)**

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><p>3rd POV:<p>

"Cameron? Cameron Morgan?"

His voice is barely audible over the freezing wind.

She **stops**. As though in a dream, she stands _dazed_, transfixed.

She then turns slowly, to face him. And then their eyes lock. And it's there. It's all still there.

He smiles weakly for a moment. "So you're still here, huh?"

Somehow, she finds her voice. "Yeah, I guess I am."

She turns and pulls her dark grey beret further over her brown locks. "Come with me," she says, walking across the waterfront at a brisk pace.

He keeps up easily, following her slim, retreating figure through the snow.

Over some black ice, she slips. Wordlessly he grips her wrist with a gloved hand, saving her just in time. Even through several layers she can feel the familiar jolt at his touch.

Not trusting herself, she quickly shrugs from his grasp and continues forward.

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><p>At last she stops. This is it. This is what she wanted him to see.<p>

Across the inlet lies the other side of the city, its lights reflecting onto the waters glassy surface.

She perches on a frozen bench.

"It's beautiful," he breathes, joining her.

They sit a moment, the silence not awkward, but awed. He is first to speak again. "So, how are you? It's been three years since . . ."

She flinches at the memory, and fiddles with a button of her thick black overcoat as an attempt to hide her unease. "I'm . . . fine, I guess. I'm fine," she says the words again as though trying to convince herself of their truth.

Her soft blue eyes flick to him. "And you?"

"I'm good. Great." His words are hollow, with little feeling. Unlike what he says next. "We married . . . had a baby. A son." He chooses his words carefully, not wanting to upset her.

But it still hurts.

More than she can **possibly** imagine.

He now has a wife; a son. And she knows she can't compete.

"I'm so . . . _happy_ for you," she murmurs, though she's anything but.

Snow falls again in drifts, thick flakes landing on her hair and long lashes. Unbeknown to her, in her world of _aching_ torture, he watches, caught once again by her beauty.

Her angelic face hardens and her long jaw clenches as she tries not to betray any emotion. It's a small victory when she succeeds, but he still knows she's in pain.

He reaches to hold her hand; gives it a gentle squeeze.

She stands abruptly. "I should get back. I have work in the morning. It's not fair."

His carefully composed mask slips for a moment, and he falters, eyes widening, before coming to stand at her side. "Of course."

_They both know they're not talking about work._

They part, and go their separate ways.

Their tormented gazes meet in **one last look**.

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><p><strong>Epilogue?<strong>


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